Radical
by Werewolf's Oneshots
Summary: [Welcome to Night Vale] "You can touch me," Carlos whispered with a tiny smile. His lips were chapped and his voice sounded like his esophagus was cracking and chipping on the inside. "You couldn't break me any more than I already am." (For more info, search for this story over at AO3.)


Cecil stood over the bed of his dying boyfriend and tried not to cry. Carlos was laying in a plastic-lined room full of monitors and beeping machines and wires and other technological items. Things designed to help people. No hospitals in Nightvale had such advanced equipment and Cecil was a little intimidated, but unzipped and pushed through the plastic barriers anyway. They had argued with him for hours, trying to prevent him from going in at all, and he had tried to explain that he was contaminated already. If it was going to hurt him it he'd be in the same position as Carlos. They allowed him to enter, eventually, giving him a medical face mask and making them promise he would take certain medications and decontamination procedures before he left the building. He'd agreed to everything. Now here he was, finally reunited after hours of fighting to be there, and he had no idea what to say.

Carlos was dressed pale blue hospital scrubs that made his dark skin and black hair stand out beautifully. He was the source of warmth in the room full of metal and plastic and blue. The clinical whiteness of the room also made the red welts and scratches stand out even more, and Cecil found he couldn't look away from the side of Carlos's face that was slightly swollen like he'd been punched. He could smell the sickness now, real strong. Vomit and toilet and antiseptic and bleach and the smell of a body too weak to get out of bed by itself. The rest of his body looked frail and thin under the hospital blankets. Radiation did that to you, they'd explained. They'd told Cecil (he'd made them tell him) how much pain Carlos was in, how his entire gastronomical and intestinal tract had started disintegrating, how he was plagued with bloody diarrhea back when he still could to eat, how his blood was starting to become acidic from the bacteria that escaped from his digestive system, how he vomited everything up from the moment he got to the hospital and had to be nourished intravenously along with a steady supply of morphine to try and battle the pain. The drip was on the other side of the bed; he hadn't wanted to accidentally disturb it. Cecil looked down at his hands and realized he was shaking.

"Nice mask," came a very soft voice from the bed. Cecil almost jumped. Carlos had opened his eyes, and was staring up out of dark hollowing sockets with an expression of deep affection.

Cecil kneaded to get on the same level, wanting desperately to put his hands on Carlos's face and hands and body and hug him and hold him, but not wanting to cause him pain. "They told me to wear it so I wouldn't get contaminated. Should you be talking? Are you in too much pain? Don't try to move-"

Carlos moved, painfully slow, and pulled himself to one side of the bed, making barely enough room for another person. "Come here," He weakly patted the blanket, offering Cecil a spot by his side. Cecil stood and sat on the edge of the bed, but Carlos shook his head and said "Come here," so Cecil leaned over and stretched himself onto the bed next to his boyfriend. Carlos lay still on his back, gazing up at the ceiling, and Cecil turned on his side to gaze at Carlos. He didn't know where to look so he aimed his eyes at Carlos's chin, his strong jaw line and the stubble that was growing there. He didn't want to think, to let the sadness come pouring out, so he just stared at each hair coming out of each pore and thought of how perfect Carlos was. There was only a few finger lengths between them but he was almost afraid to close the gap.

"You can touch me," Carlos whispered with a tiny smile. His lips were chapped and his voice sounded like his esophagus was cracking and chipping on the inside. "You couldn't break me any more than I already am."

Cecil could not hold it in any longer and let out a gasp as several tears finally escaped his eyes. He put an arm over Carlos, shaking with sadness. "Carlos, I'm so sorry."

"Cecil, no, don't. Don't be sorry." He turned to look Cecil in the eyes. "I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have even thought it... I'm just so tired."

"But it's all my fault, if you hadn't stayed in Night Vale, hadn't stayed with me, you wouldn't be so sick."

Carlos pulled Cecil into a weak hug, snuggling his face into Cecil's hair and smelling him. "I wouldn't trade being with you for anything," he said gently.

Cecil sniffled. His voice was steady despite the tears, but the sorrow he was feeling was crushing. "It would have been better if I'd never seen you. I lived more than three decades in blissful ignorance of you, and then I met you and all of that feels like a prelude. Nothing can ever be as wonderful as you are."

"I'm not so wonderful," a few dry heaving coughs interrupted him and he took a few moments to recover. Cecil cringed. "Not now at least," he finally added, his face for one moment displayed the pain and sorrow he must be feeling every waking second.

Cecil propped himself up, put a hand on either side of Carlos so he hovering over him. He looked directly into the scientist's sad, tired eyes, staring with such an intensity that Carlos was taken aback. "Wha-"

"You are beautiful." Cecil's words had no waver and rang with a determination that surprised both of them. "You are the most beautiful, wonderful person I have ever encountered. You're intelligent, self-reliant, kind, thoughtful, and your hair is a role model for all other hair everywhere." He stared down at Carlos almost angrily for a few more seconds before adding, "I've spent years in Europe, I know what I'm talking about."

Carlos smiled, smiled so big his eyes did that cute crinkling squint and Cecil almost melted right there. Then Carlos pushed himself up on his elbows, despite shaking from the effort, and kissed him. It wasn't a long, deep, or passionate kiss, but it filled Cecil with joy. He bent down so Carlos didn't have to fight gravity and kissed him back, kissed his beautiful chapped lips and beautiful dry nose and beautiful sunken cheeks and beautiful swollen eye and beautiful soft eyelids.

The next couple hours were spent in silence, a silence that wanted to be happy and content despite the circumstances but never could forget they were both laying in a hospital, waiting for the inevitable. Cecil wrapped himself as tightly and completely around Carlos as he could without causing pain, and Carlos did his best to embrace him back, trying not to show just how much pain he was in, suppress his coughing and nausea, and resisting the urge to sleep so he could spend as much time as possible with Cecil. The minutes ticked by on a clock that was real, covered in plastic so they couldn't see the time. Despite his pain Carlos didn't want the moment to end, and would have given anything to be back in Night Vale with Cecil, laying in either of their beds, listening to the ticking of a clock that wasn't real.

Both of them dozed, dreamed of each other. A few times Cecil woke up to see a nurse come in, with proper radiation protective clothing, but he was too drowsy and sad to say anything and the nurse always left wordlessly after administering more morphine. The rest of Cecil's wakefulness was spent watching Carlos, who was only ever at peace when he was asleep. He still looked ghastly, and seemed to be growing paler by the hour, though Cecil was trying to convince himself it was just his imagination. Sometimes Carlos would open his eyes for a moment and stare at the ceiling without really seeing, his eyes unfocused, and then give in to the pull of sleep once again. But the morphine helped, and the tension finally eased up a little as he slept. His jaw unclenched, his hands relaxed. Cecil decided he didn't care how long he stayed or what doctors he was disturbing, he wouldn't leave Carlos's side. Ever.

He was entertaining the idea of fist fighting several doctors for the right to stay when Carlos opened his eyes again. The circles beneath them had darkened and they looked reddish, like he'd been rubbing them, or crying. The lines on his face seemed deeper too. He said, "You weren't in Europe, there are mountains in Europe. Big ones."

Cecil smiled, and even laughed a tiny, soundless laugh. "For a scientist you believe in some weird things, Carlos."

Carlos smiled back at him. "How could you not have seen a single mountain there? Exactly where were you?"

"You really believe in them? They're not just some old wive's tale or superstition? And snow is real thing that happens, too?"

"Yes, I promise you they're real, and I can't believe you of all people would question it." Cecil, who lived in Night Vale, who at this very moment was deeply irradiated and yet not showing a single symptom, just accused mountains of being a superstition. His Cecil. "I love you," he said drowsily. He was tired and considered giving in to sleep again. Then he'd realized what he said and blushed. It wasn't like they hadn't said it before right? They'd gotten the concept across just fine. Cecil declared his love live on the air before Carlos had even met him, for goodness sake. And as far as he could tell neither of them had ever felt unwanted... but he couldn't recall ever telling Cecil outright that he loved him. He'd always been so bad with words; it was easier to just hug him from behind, or kiss him on the cheek, or hold his hand. He especially liked holding Cecil's hand. He turned to Cecil, who had a little look of surprise on his face. The guilt at seeing that stabbed Carlos like a knife in the heart, hurt worse than the pain of his failing organs. How could he have gone for so long without saying it? "I love you, Cecil. I'll always love you."

Cecil touched his forehead against Carlos's and closed his eyes. "I love you too. For all of eternity." And then, "I'll find a mountain. And I'll get proof. Nobody will doubt you ever again."

Carlos laughed a bit, if you could call the quiet breathy exhales a laugh. "The moon too? I mean, you don't have to go there, but you could read up on it a little. Do some investigative journalism."

"Of course," Cecil said back "Mountains, the moon, snow, clocks. I am really into science these days."

Silence took over again. Neither of them felt the need to fill it. Simply being next to each other was the most meaningful gesture either could think of. Carlos fell asleep as Cecil watched him. He tried to smile at him he drifted, telling without speaking that it was okay, take a nap, it would make him feel better, but not wanting to voice the words out loud. It _wouldn't _make him feel better, they both knew. Cecil was trying to ignore the steadily slowing heart monitor. He wanted to rip it off the wall and smash it to pieces. He didn't need it reminding him, every second, of what was happening to the man he loved. Carlos moved less, breathed less deeply. He'd gone from weakly holding Cecil in his arms to just laying there, powerless, letting himself be held as if he could do anything to change it if he wanted to.

Time passed.

"Cecil?" Carlos whispered. His voice was like crumpled rice paper. Cecil wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't been a mere inch away.

"Carlos," he replied, hugging him. His voice wavered.

"Couldn't tell if you were still there," Carlos said. His eyes were still closed.

"I'm here, I'll always be here," Cecil's voice began to waver. He didn't want to have this conversation, he wanted to run away from it. Maybe if he did run away, Carlos would stop getting worse. Maybe if he left and never looked at him again he would stop dying.

"Don't," Carlos said. "Don't be here. After this."

Cecil tried to reply but he found he couldn't talk, his throat was too tight. He just shook his head, hugged Carlos tighter.

"'I'm not gonna die, for few days," Carlos told him. "But.. probably not gonna wake up after tonight."

Cecil couldn't hold back his tears any longer and just sobbed. He hated himself for not being able to do anything. He hated that inescapable future where Carlos wasn't there, hated seeing it coming like a deer in the headlights, hated the Carlos-shaped hole that was already in him even though Carlos wasn't gone yet. "I'm gonna be here for you," he choked out.

"No Cecil, don't."

"I can't leave you."

"I know. And I can't leave you." He took pauses between words, sucking in as much air as he could. Stuttered a bit, trying to keep things in order. He tried to open his eyes a little, only for a second, but his eyes found Cecil's and his look however brief said _listen to me_. "I won't ever, okay? I'll always be around you. Like that cartoon you like, with the boy and the dog?" He sighed and stopped talking and almost stopped breathing, and Cecil wondered for a moment if he wasn't going to continue. This couldn't be it, not so soon. But then he said, "When the dog said, after he dies, he'll be in the sky and the trees and sunlight and in the boy's nose and ears and heart... I don't remember, exactly. I wasn't watching attentively... and I made most of that up... But it's true. I'll be there for you."

Cecil was nodding and smiling and crying and angry, but he said "Thank you." It sounded kind of dumb but the inadequacy of words to express his feelings was overwhelming. He wanted Carlos to know how grateful he was for saying that, for watching that show with him when it wasn't his kind of thing, and for remembering it on his death bed in an effort to comfort Cecil when it was Carlos the one who was painfully dying. There was nothing he could say or do to match the sentiment of those words, no time to even try, so he just said "Thank you for everything, Carlos, thank you so much."

"I love you Cecil. Don't come back. After tonight. Okay? ...I'll just be a big mess. I won't even know you're here."

"I'll always be here," Cecil whispered defiantly, the selfish desire to be with Carlos forever overpowering the need to do everything he asked.

"Please. It won't be pretty."

"You'll always be beautiful," Cecil said. Carlos was falling asleep again, and Cecil could feel with a desperate urgency that this was it. These were the last words he'd ever hear from Carlos.

"They told me... they won't shoot people's bodies into space," Carlos said. Fading. "So maybe you could... spread my ashes somewhere nice... Put some in Night Vale."

"Okay."

"I love you."  
"I love you, too."

"Bye Cecil."  
"Don't leave me."

"I don't want to..." the first time Carlos has sounded truly sad about his death, and Cecil couldn't handle it.

"Don't go, please don't go."

"I gotta..."

"No."

"Don't worry... okay?"

"I'll try."

"Cecil."

"Carlos?... Carlos? Please, Carlos."

Carlos didn't say anything. He was breathing, barely, heart rate slow. Cecil's tears flowed. He took Carlos's hand, squeezed it. Did Carlos squeeze back? He couldn't tell through his own shaking sobs.

"I'm here for you Carlos."

Cecil stayed in Carlos's bed through the night. Carlos didn't talk again. A couple nurses came in and out, not saying anything, but he didn't notice. It must have been morning when someone finally came in and made him leave. He put up much less of a fight than he thought he would.

He came back, couldn't stay away. Two days Carlos stayed alive, with Cecil holding his hand and reading him the Night Vale newspaper. The doctors told him they were surprised he lasted so long, that it was usually over quicker. They said maybe it was because of Cecil. He didn't know what to say to that- one part of him, the last tiny sliver of him that could still feel happiness, that wasn't torn between sorrow and anger and not wanting to feel anything, that part was elated that Carlos was hanging on for him. To be with him for as long as possible. But he remembered Carlos asking him, please don't stay. He didn't want Cecil to see him die. He looked over at Carlos, near skeletal, unmoving, pale and yellow, sunken in to the mattress, a sliver of his old self. Then he closed his eyes and thought of Carlos when he first saw him, investigating the many mysteries of Night Vale, his hair long and beautiful, Carlos calling him to investigate the clocks, Carlos putting a hand on his knee as they sat on the trunk of his car, Carlos leaning over and kissing him on their first date. The real Carlos, unexpected and amazing.

It was late, after midnight. Cecil finished reading the news. He crumpled the paper in his hands, got up, and tossed it in the wastebasket on his way out. He stopped with his hand on the zipper of the plastic lining, almost looked back. But the memories he had were so much better than seeing Carlos wasting away in that bed. So he left.

The next morning the hospital called. Carlos had passed away during the night. Cecil mumbled some kind of affirmation, gave them brief instructions on handling the body, hung up the phone. That day he packed everything he had (not much) into his car, called in to work and told Station Management he was using all his accumulated vacation days (a lot) and drove north, drove to where he hoped the ground rose up to touch the sky in great and valiant peaks. Drove off to find mountains.


End file.
